


Moonflight

by Sandentwins



Series: As the Golden Condor Flies [4]
Category: Taiyou no Ko Esteban | Les Mystérieuses Cités d'or | The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Golden Condor, Reincarnation, Sacrifice, Speculation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins
Summary: Frightened by Inti's wrath, the people seized the maiden and sacrificed her to the Sun.But the maiden was not afraid. For death itself would not stop her from protecting her child.





	1. The Maiden and the Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Serres de Lune](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214433) by [Sandentwins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins)



> Whether or not you've read [Walking on Moonlit Paths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013052), you can enjoy this piece, as it is meant to be spoiler-free and canon-compliant. But I heavily recommend you read it anyway, to better understand the references.

Her bare feet hurt against the cold, wet gravel path she's climbing with difficulty. The wind lashes against her hair, making it blow in so many directions she has trouble seeing where she's going. The grip of the foreign hands on her arms drags her forward, forces her to keep going up the mountain slope, closer to a place she's only heard of in whispered tales. Further and further up a peak she knows she'll never come back from. 

Her face is wet with rain and tears, her sight blurry and her breath hazy. The air is thinner up here, and she's exhausted from all that climbing. But she knows it's what they want, she knows it's only the beginning. She knows it will get worse the higher up she gets, and that there is no escaping it. 

There is no escaping her fate.

From where she is, she can get a splendid view of the coast. Of her little village, the one she grew in and lived in her whole life. And it is a beautiful sight, a familiar one, but it fills her heart with regret and nostalgia. This place is her home, and her memories are all there. From these heights she can see the Temple of the Sun where she spent many of her years, where she met her friends and learned everything she knows. Everything she did, everything she _is_ lies down there, on the foot of the mountain. And tearing her gaze away from this sight wrenches her heart.

The sky is tainted a dark gray, clouds obscuring the falling sun. The storm has still yet not passed, and distant echoes of thunder bring back unpleasant memories. Her throat itches, and she feels like crying again; but she tries to hold back her tears. It's useless now, and regret will not help her situation. She needs to stay strong, and to face it head on. It's what she was brought here for, what she's now here for. And she will not let her feelings get in the way of her duty.

Her name is Killa. She had fallen in love with a foreigner, and lived the best years of her life with him. From their union, a child was born, that should have brought happiness and joy into their lives; but the day he took his first breath, the sky had become obscured with the darkest of storms. Inti the Sun God had been thrown in a rage by his birth.

They have seized her. They have blamed her for this crime. And they have brought her up this mountain, to the peak where she could barely breathe, to feed her to the condors and have her soul left to Inti's mercy. For her child's existence, she had been blamed and punished.

Her feet touched horizontal ground again, and the hands that grabbed her suddenly pushed her. She fell on the harsh ground with a grunt, her breath drawn out of her, and tried to get up on her feet; but her forces were abandoning her. The climb had made her even weaker than she already was, and she was now prone to stronger dizzying spells than before. She barely found the strength to get up, resting on hesitant fours as she tried to catch her breath.

She heard someone say something, on a stern ceremonial tone, but she didn't understand the words. She had trouble hearing, her ears feeling distorted with pressure. Her lungs felt squeezed in her chest, so much she could hardly breathe at all, and she was getting closer and closer to blacking out. Lights were dancing in the corner of her vision, as she tried to get up and keep her dignity. The solid hands forced her up once again, and her tired legs managed to stand as straight as they could, which was decidedly nothing straight at all. Another hand forced her head up, and her tired eyes met those of the village elder.

The one she once looked up to with respect and admiration, she had nothing but contempt for. And her eyes showed it, her tired eyes that she now wielded like weapons of distrust and hatred. 

“It is a shame we have to let you go.”, the elder said, shaking her head. “You were a fine maiden. You could have gone great lengths!”

In the old woman's tone, Killa thought she's heard something like _pity_. It only made her sick.

“You could have become someone important in our village, Killa. Why did you throw it all away?”

Killa was tired, exhausted from everything that had happened in the past few days. The echoes of childbirth, the strain in her legs, the squeezing feeling in her chest were weighing her down, trying to drag her body to the ground like iron shackles. She could barely keep her head up and face the elder, she could barely remember to breathe. And yet she did, staring at the old woman with eyes as sharp as she could muster, eyes that still gleamed of a faint full moon-colored hue. A gift from the child she gave life to, a sign that she was part of _them_ now.

“I didn't.”, she breathed out.

Her voice was weak, barely a whisper that couldn't even blow a candle.

“I didn't throw it away. On the contrary. I...I only gained from it.”

She thought back to everything. To all the things she's lived with this man she loved, this man she opened her world and her heart to. This man who gave her so much more in return. 

This man she had wanted to build a life with. To have a family with. 

“I gained everything.”, she grinned in triumph. “And you will never take it away from me.”

The elder frowned, letting go of Killa's head, almost jerking it to the side like a piece of garbage.

“You have fallen way lower than I would have thought.”, she sneered.

Then, she looked to the people holding onto her.

“Give it to her.”

Their grip onto Killa's arms released, and she almost fell again. But suddenly, something heavy hit her head, pushing her to the ground with force. The pain coursed through her skull like a poison dart, explosive and loud like a drum, and her body fell down on the sharp gravel and pebbles that scorched her skin all over. Once more, her breath was forcibly taken away from her lungs, and she didn't even have the force to cough out all the dust that made its way into her eyes and mouth. The footsteps disappeared, and before she knew it, she was all alone.

She suddenly realized just how cold she was.

She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. The pain was paralyzing, echoing around her head and overwhelming everything else. She did not feel tired anymore, for she did not feel anything anymore aside from that pain, that filled her head more than anything her senses could convey. Everything was dark, and her ears were ringing.

But she knew she wasn't dead. She could still smell the wet dust of the ground, see the lights dancing in her eyes, and slowly she managed to feel the scraping of the gravel against her fallen body. But most of all, right behind the pain, was something wet and warm running down her hair, something that struck her with fear.

She was not dead yet, but it was a mere matter of time now. She had trouble breathing, and even if the blow to her head hadn't quite killed her, she knew she was close to passing out. Whether lack of air, bleeding out or sheer pain and panic would get to her first was yet to be found, and in the horror of the moment she wished the blow hadn't missed and killed her on the spot, so she wouldn't have to realize that despite everything that was going on, _she was still alive._

Never before had she wished for death. But everything had a first, hadn't it? 

She tried to breathe. To get up, to survive her fate, to run down the mountain and escape sacrifice. To reunite with her love, with their child, and run away with them like they have planned with so much hope. She tried to move, to do _anything_ , but her body had suddenly escaped her control. Overcome with pain, fear and exhaustion, it was but a husk she was inhabiting and that she couldn't move. She had become prisoner of her own body, and witnessed everything more than she could act. 

She was still bleeding, her hair now wet with red that trickled down her neck in horrifying, shuddering sensations. Her eyes were getting blurry, and she realized she was crying, without knowing why. She could barely blink away these tears, whose watery impression only added to her suffocating, making her feel like she was drowning. She wanted it gone, she wanted these sensations to end, no matter what it took. She only wanted this to end, for the good or the worse, whichever path it preferred, but she truly, desperately wanted this feeling to _end_. 

Her eyes closed on their own, without she commanded them to. Her temples were pulsing, her own heartbeat ringing to her ears like a deafening sound that she feared would make her crazy. It was a slow, loud drumming that added to the pressure of her situation, and that she feared was slowing down little by little. Panic got a hold of her again, and she tried to resist it, to keep her calm, to not think of it. The more she panicked, the faster she would bleed out. And while she was wishing for her torment to end, she certainly did not want to make it end. 

Her breath was but a whisper now, her voice a low rumbling in her chest. But it was there, giving her something to hold onto. So, very quietly, she started singing to herself.

There was a song she heard a long time ago. A song whose words were foreign to her, whose language rolled off her tongue like an exotic caress of the worlds beyond the sea, beyond the mountains. The worlds she wanted to explore, the worlds he promised they would see together. He had taught her these words, taught her their meaning, and the melody of their voices had more than once intertwined, singing these very words like a promise, like a vow, like a sign of their love for the world to hear and witness. And in this moment, these words were giving her strength, giving her a last figment of hope to hold onto, a memory to cherish in her last moments. A determined and stubborn will to live, to survive this, to not let anything get a hold of her, despite all the signs that she would not recover from this. 

Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe her exhaustion and air-deprived brain were acting up. But in that moment, she thought she was hearing something. A voice, singing with her. 

_His_ voice.

A smile returned to her lips, as she kept on singing, deciding to give into this feeling. Even if it were a hallucination, a delusion, she would follow it, and let their voices mingle and dance together one last time, let the memories of her beloved one come back up to her as she sang in whispered breaths, let these reminiscences make her feel loved and safe once more. Her eyes still closed, she could see him here, with her, his hands gently pressing over hers. She imagined the happy laughter of her child, the grip of his tiny hands, his sunny smile and sunnier eyes; she tried to imagine what he would look like growing up, what person he would turn out to be, what his siblings could be like. In her tired, dying delusion, she was surrounded with her family, with her beloved one and their children, and with their whole future laid out ahead of them. And despite the pain, the fear and the fatigue, she was happy.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and the light of dusk blinded her for an instant. Her body was surrounded with large, dark forms, that only after a time did she recognize to be birds. Condors, that were looking at her with hungry eyes.

Of course. She was made to be food for them, to have her body torn apart by scavengers and denied all rites. Such was the fate for traitors and infidels. Such fate would be hers. 

She didn't know what she was doing. But slowly, her hand weakly reached out, reached towards one of these birds, following an instinct she didn't understand. One condor moved forward, pecking her fingers, before allowing her to touch its neck. It was bare and smooth skin, pulsing under her fingers. The condor had bright eyes, and its head had no crest, so she knew it was a female. A large adult, likely searching food for its babies.

 _You and I both have known the joys of motherhood,_ she thought, too tired to speak. _We know what it's like to care for our little ones._

The condor didn't move, just looking at her. Waiting for her to die, so it could eat. She understood that.

_I'm not angry at you. You're just doing what you need to do. You're...doing your best, for your family._

Weakly, she caressed its neck, and the bird seemed to lean into it. It didn't seem to see her as a threat, and she felt happy about it. At least she would have a bit of companionship in her last moments, even if it was something as simple and one-sided as the presence of an animal that only saw her as future food. 

_I will not last long. My body is tired, and my time is coming. But before I leave...would you please stay with me?_

Once again, the condor did not reply. But it did not push her hand away, and it was all she needed. She smiled, and closed her eyes, whispering in a muted breath.

“Thank you.”

It would be alright, she thought. Everything would be alright.

It took hours, a horribly long wait through the early night. Killa had stopped moving, her breathing weak and unheard. When her hand eventually dropped to the ground, the condor's head perked up. It didn't move for a second, its eyes still locked on her; and then, in a thrust of black wings, it flew away. 

It flew for a long time, its wings still and its eyes sharp, as it trailed the night sky. On the way, it caught some small rodent in its talons, eager to bring it back. And when the summer sun started to rise at last, the condor was home, in its nest in the mountain. A nest built in the remains of an old temple, overseeing a lake.

An old temple built around a massive beast of gold.

A winged beast with eyes gleaming like full moonlight.


	2. The Maiden's Flight of the Great Condor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay nooooooooow you might wanna read the previous parts of As the Golden Condor Flies, because it might get confusing. But if you haven't, you won't be too spoiled.

She's not sure how much time had passed since she's woken up. It feels like a dream, in the middle of which she suddenly finds herself. And it's strange, and unsettling, and she's not sure she likes it.

But it's better than nothing, she decides.

She doesn't know where she is. It feels like some large, empty place, she knows that much. But it's nowhere she's already seen before. Is it a place her mind has invented from scraps of memories? That's what she thought at first. But the more time passes, and the more she starts to doubt it.

She does not remember anything. How she got there, where she was before, and what “before” looked like. She's not sure she even remembers herself, who she used to be. She knows it, it's somewhere, but it's distant and unclear, and undecipherable.

She knows her name is Killa. She used to be a Maiden of the Sun. But that aside, she has a hard time recalling. So she decides to give it the time it needs, and doesn't push it. Instead, she focuses on the present, and on where she is now.

It's somewhere dark, where every little sound echoes tenfold. Perhaps a cave, or somewhere similar. She would like to explore, to walk around, but she's somehow bent in place, stuck and unable to lift a finger. And it is a horribly scary perspective that frightens her, until one day it doesn't, and she wonders why she was even scared in the first place.

While she cannot move, she learns to sense. She learns to see the little specks of light the sun sends through thin openings in the walls. She sees how they bounce around the stones and reflect on everything, and she witnesses the rise and fall of the sun as days pass. Sometimes the sun stays for long, sometimes for short, and that's how she can know what season it is. That's how she knows how many days, months, years pass. She counts them all, she tries to keep track of everything.

She does not feel time. She's not hungry, tired, not even bored anymore. Everything just seems to take place, and she's taking place along with it. Days pass, nights pass, and her senses become sharper: she can see the light more accurately, she can hear sounds, she can feel when things touch to her body. A body she still has too little awareness of to make sense of.

There is a nest somewhere up by the entrances. A pair of condors raising a little chick. She watches them silently, watches as the chick starts to grow, to get more feathers, to learn to fly. One day it leaves the nest, and there is another egg in its stead, and before she knows it, it hatches. And she watches this family of condors, she considers them to be her link to the outside world.

She had a family, too. There was someone she loved. Someone whose face, whose name evade her even today, even though she knows it was someone she held dear to her heart. And they had a child together, a small baby whose traits she can barely remember. And it pains her that she knows no better. She watches these condors raise their own child, feed it, protect it, teach it to fly, and she yearns for the few memories she has of when she was doing the same. It hurts, but she tries to ignore it, to not let it get to her.

But she wonders what happened. Why she got separated from her family.

Several chicks are born. They come and go, one at a time; first eggs, then little gray balls of fuzz, then young adults. One day, the mother condor does not come back from her flight, and Killa knows in her heart what happened. The father condor is left to raise their baby alone, to tend to it and make sure it lives a happy life. She wishes she could help, but in the state she is in, she cannot move. And it pains her.

Sometimes, the sunlight grazes her body, makes her feel warm in places she couldn't feel anymore. It's one of the few moments she knows what had become of her; she can feel her arms, her face, only for brief moments some days of the year. And they always feel...foreign, like they're not hers anymore. They're always in the same position: her arms raised above her head, her face down and looking forward. No matter how much she tries, she can't get them to move.

But these little moments are a perfect opportunity to learn. To figure out her situation, to find out what her life had led to. Day after day, whenever she gets a little bit of sunlight, she tries to move, to know what her body has become. She tries to make use of the strength she slowly regains night after night.

It takes time. It takes patience. It takes effort. But after a couple years of patiently storing energy, she manages to take the first step outside of her prison.

She feels incredibly light. She cannot feel her weight, it's like she's made of solid air. And it's freedom like she's never known before! She steps again, and again, and walks and _runs_ towards a patch of moonlight that shines through cracks in the wall. She lets it bathe over her airy body, lets herself feel its shine, and finally regains some sense of happiness; but before she knows it, it's gone, and she's left in the dark again, her form already wavering. So she returns to her prison, decided to try again tomorrow.

It's an incredibly long time until she can walk out again. During her escapades under whatever light she catches, she gets to look around her surroundings. She's inside a temple, where it is warm and smells of ash and dust. There are engravings on the walls, of scenes she doesn't recognize and writings that seem foreign. And the body she has come to call hers, is actually a giant bird forged in shining metal.

It slowly comes back to her. A tale she's heard long ago, a tale about immense machines of metal that shine like the sun. Machines able of great feats, but especially able to commune with living souls.

Slowly, the pieces come together. And slowly, she understands her situation.

Another couple of years pass, and the condors end up leaving their nest. At some point the earth trembles, and the openings in the wall enlarge, allowing more light to pass through. She takes it like a relief, and as more power builds up little by little within her, she discovers more and more about herself. She gets acquainted with her body, with her abilities, with her surroundings.

One day, enough light gathers in her so that she can climb out of the underground chamber, and set foot outside the temple. She discovers the pleasure of walking outside again, of having a small form she can easily control. She is but air, but light, and her form is imprecise and still hesitant but it is _hers_ , and day after day, night after night, she gets acquainted with herself again. With time, she learns how she likes to wear her hair, and that she likes her clothes to float in the wind, and that she loves to dance under the light of the moon, between the empty temples and houses making up this stone village on the mountain. The moonlight powers her, gives her something to do, something to dream of, and every full moon is another occasion for her to come out and dance and prance and be free and _alive_.

Little by little, she feels herself come back to life. Little by little, she comes to understand immortality.

~~~~~

But her peace is short-lived. One day, as she is resting from her nightly escapade, she feels something shift. Before she knows it, her golden body is moved, and bathed in solid light. And all around her, suddenly, are _people._

She can make out their voices, but she doesn't understand what they're saying. There is enough light so she can see them, but not enough so that she can move. They move around, they shout in excitement, and touch to her feet, and generally make her uncomfortable. But soon night comes, and they calm down, and slowly fall asleep.

A bit of moonlight is passing through, shining on her wings and giving her enough power to project herself out. Leaping off her beak, landing without a noise, she watches these people as they sleep, trying to make sense of their presence. How did they find this place? She thought it was closed off. Nobody ever comes here; she thought she would be alone forever, alone and free. But decidedly, this would not be the case.

These are strangers. They're not from here, she can tell from their garments; except perhaps that young girl, though she isn't too sure. She leans in to examine her from close, and that's when she sees it.

The girl wears a medallion around her neck. A medallion like Killa remembers, with the exact same engravings.

How can it be? This should not be possible! She knows that medallion, and she knows who is supposed to wear it! Awful ideas start to come to mind, as to what could have happened and how a stranger could have laid her hands on her lover's treasure; but that's when the boy next to her shifts in his sleep, and Killa notices the string around his neck too.

She hesitates. She knows it can't be. It's not logical, it goes against everything she's thought! And yet, her fingers very carefully reach, and draw the string from under his shirt; and the medallion of the Sun reflects her pale light hands. This time there is no mistaking it: it is missing its centerpiece, but it is the very same necklace her lover had worn. She had seen it so many times, she would never forget it. And that means only one thing.

They wake up before she can do anything else, and she's quick to retreat, her light disappearing into thin air. But just as she thinks of what to do next, light strikes her body, and for the first time since she's entered it, she feels the bird _activate_.

For the first of many other times.

~~~~~

Whenever she tries to communicate with them, they either don't hear her or choose not to answer. So after the first few tries, she simply stops, and accepts her fate with passivity and boredom.

She doesn't understand their language. But as she flies with them, as she listens to their long conversations, she comes to pick some tidbits of it. From the way they move inside of her body, she also learns more about these people themselves, and who they are. As for the rest, she lets her mind fill in the blanks.

The tallest in the group speaks with a quiet yet deep voice, and seems to be the leader of the pack. He doesn't move a lot, but everyone else follows him and his initiative. He's flanked with two sidekicks with loud and annoying voices, whose names she keeps mixing up but figures aren't very important, as they're never one without the other anyway. These three are adults, their voices reek of that foreign accent and they only seem to care about gold.

The child with the parrot has an eager voice. He's sometimes messing with her dashboard and commands, out of curiosity, and she wishes she could get him to stop. He sometimes tends to be jumpy. He's got an easy laugh and never leaves his bird companion. But his words are full of wisdom, and he knows a lot about the world; his tales sometimes remind her of other stories she's heard about ancient civilizations.

The young girl is quiet and soft-spoken, and always treats her with reverence and respect. She keeps to herself and sits very properly, and everyone listens when she speaks. There's Inca intonations in her voice, and that somehow reassures Killa, who very soon grows fond of this one. This child could have been a little sister, after all.

And then, there's the pilot. This excited, happy young boy who never ceases to amaze her. His hands are shy around the commands, and she does her best to be patient with him; but as time passes, and as she thinks about things more, she starts to realize that everything adds up. She counts and recounts seasons in her head, remembers all the time she's spent alone, and the years match: her child would be the same age as this boy today. He's wearing the medallion of the Sun, a precious jewel that she learned only exists in two pieces in the whole world. And the more she listens, the more she gets to know him, and the more she finds out he looks and thinks like a man she had loved in the past, as well as _herself_.

And now, here she is. Alone with her thoughts and her questions and her worries. She doesn't know what she should do: should she try to reach out to him, to communicate? What if she's wrong, and everything is just a massive coincidence? What if she's just delusional, and thinking the wrong ideas just to relieve herself of worry?

What if he doesn't recognize her?

She's scared. She doesn't know what she should do. There's a chance she could be wrong: this child doesn't bear the name she gave him, he never mentions anything about his father or his family at all. He speaks in the tongue of the foreigners, and his mannerisms are nothing like those of her people.

Either she is wrong, and this boy isn't her child; either she is right, and something terrible had happened to make him like this.

So she says nothing. She keeps flying, pretending to be a dumb and thoughtless machine, except when she doesn't. Sometimes she needs to act out of her way to help him and his friends, but even then she doesn't say anything. She's waiting for the right time, or for a better occasion. She wants to be sure.

Patience has become her virtue, after all. She could wait a little longer.

~~~~~

Sometimes, when the moon is full and her body is bathed in its light, she takes a few steps out into the open.

She does not come out of her body anymore, for she would rather not like to be seen. So she only does it at night, when everyone is asleep and everything is much calmer. The Golden Condor, as they call it, is powered by sunlight; but if the pale glow of the moon cannot move it, it is enough for her to be awake and well.

She sits by the remains of the fire they have lit, watches its flames dance between twigs. They're all sound asleep, and if she makes no noise, she will get to enjoy their silent company for a moment. After all, isn't she also part of their team by now?

The wind blows, making her silvery hair dance in a gust of moon. The fire's almost out, so she touches to the wood and lets the light of her fingers rekindle it. It was something she learned how to do, and sometimes it would prove useful.

Sometimes, when she's sure they're sleeping, she hums her song, _their_ song. She recalls the days of times past, the moments she's lived with her beloved one. And she gazes at the sleeping face of this young child, and she knows, she just _knows_ it is true. That even if his name isn't the same and he does not recall his birthplace, he still is her child, _their_ child. And she wonders what could have happened, but she knows it's best not to open old wounds. So she doesn't ask, and instead keeps singing, sitting by him. Carefully, quietly lulling him back to sleep when his dreams get agitated. Gently grazing his face with her moonlight touch.

She knows it is true. And even if it isn't, she doesn't mind. She misses being a mother, and these children do need one.

~~~~~

More and more time passes, and she gets to see some of the most breathtaking places she's ever seen.

It starts with familiar landscapes, in the skies of her homeland. Every now and then, she recognizes a place, a mountain, a landmark. She knows in what direction her village is, and she yearns to see it again, but her pilot always takes her in another direction, and she can only follow.

One day, she's flying over the ocean. She's actually leaving the home of her ancestors, she can't believe it! The green forests disappear, leaving only the blue of the sea below her wings. It's breathtaking to say the least...well, she doesn't have any breath to speak of, but the idea is there.

A long time ago, someone she loved very much promised her that they'd see the world together. They would have traveled together on their ship of dreams, and lived so many new experiences across the lands and kingdoms. She recalls these times, these happy memories, the plans they'd made and the projects they had traced on hesitant maps. The life they were supposed to have.

The life she was supposed to give the child she was expecting.

Why did it all go wrong? Why did everything turn this bitter and sad way? What had stopped them from living their dream, from being together?

Thinking back on all of this only hurts her more, so she decides not to. She needs to stay focused on the present, now. The Condor's crew depends on her, and she will not let her own feelings of nostalgia get in the way of their mission. So she says nothing, and simply takes in the beautiful sights of all the lands they fly over.

She pretends she is on the ship, her beloved one by her side and their baby in her arms. She pretends nothing had happened, and her life is going exactly how she wanted it to. She pretends she is still alive and well, and nothing can stop her from walking her path.

~~~~~

These children are reckless, stubborn and deeply in love with danger. Sometimes she wonders what's going through their heads, and if they even think before acting on their impulses. But that's the mother in her worrying, while her growing adventurous side only cheers them on.

Sometimes, when they go out and leave the Condor alone, she comes out and waits for them. Perched on the beak, she watches the horizon for any sign of these children she loves so much. There's nothing else she can do, for her body doesn't interact very well with the world around her. It's frustrating, honestly, but it's also something she can reflect on to pass time.

Everything seems to happen both too slowly and in a great hurry. She's bored out of her mind when nothing happens, and when it does, she only wishes it could stop. How more complex could her life become? She fears to know the answer. Yet in all that mess of time and places and thoughts, one thing remains constant: she would do anything to keep these children safe. If that is what she's meant to do, then so it shall be.

It may be something as simple as slightly deviating their course, or moving of her own when they're being chased. Little things that make sure they don't land somewhere they won't be able to take off. A bit of moonlight smartly reflected into their eyes wakes them up before enemies arrive; a cleverly-hidden sign in the landscape guides their steps towards something interesting. She helps in her own secret way, for she knows that if she were to come out and show herself to them, they would not believe her. He would not recognize her, and he would be afraid. So she waits, and learns all she can about them, about him. So that when the time comes, she's ready to meet him at last.

She can't wait to finally talk to him, to hold him close, to catch up on all these years she's lost. But she must not distract him from his quest. So for now, she contents herself with sitting by him as he sleeps, and watch over to make sure he's safe. She soothes his agitated dreams with gentle whispers and touches, helps appease his nightmares. She knows she maybe shouldn't, but she wants to, she _needs_ to be by his side. That side of her that yearns for motherhood can be very powerful at times, and she can't ignore it.

He looks so much like his father. At times, he feels like the splitting image of this man she loved, whose likeness is now preserved through this child that also happens to be hers. And it makes her feel fuzzy inside, it makes her happy in ways she's not sure she understands. But she doesn't need to. She keeps watch by his side, makes sure he gets rest. She'll watch over, silently, like the moon in the sky, and disappear before he ever catches sight of her.

He might think this is all a dream, but she knows the truth.

~~~~~

Ever since she's started flying this body, she's known that her fate was now linked to the elusive tale of the Cities of Gold. She's heard of them before, and she's known of her lover's interest for these stories. But never would she have guessed they would be a whole part of who she is and what she is meant to do, now.

And she learns more and more every day. She learns about herself, and her abilities, and her place in the great clockwork of things and the order of the universe. The body she inhabits is a tiny piece of a gigantic machine, on which the fate of the world now depends. And it is both a tremendous weight to carry and an immense honor than to be part of it.

She can't live on her own. Since she was little, she was always meant to be part of something: whether it be her family, the Temple of the Sun, the crew of their ship of dreams, or the engineering legacy of a great and powerful civilization. She loves the idea that no one can thrive on their own, that everyone is meant to be part of something bigger than them, and that there's always a place meant for her somewhere. It soothes her mind, and makes her feel like she doesn't have to worry about things; that no matter what, the gods will have her back. And if they don't, she will make herself part of something, for it is what she's best at.

As she helps the crew of the Condor in their journey across the world, she slowly finds her place again in the grand scheme of things. She is happy to know that if she can be a reliable means of transportation for them, she can still prove useful. But sometimes, as time passes and she gets to know the minds of her passengers a little more, she realizes they don't see her as a mere vehicle.

They know she's not just any ship. Of course, they don't realize she's sentient and able of rational thought; but every now and then, they do refer to her like she is her own person, like she knows things they don't. Like the times where she has to act on her own reflect some intelligent thought, some animal instinct, some proof that there is more to her than orichalcum and sunlight. Whenever it's her turn to take a decision, they've come to trust her, and let her do so. And she'll never be thankful enough for that.

In their eyes, she is still an object of mystery, a complex piece of engineering that hasn't disclosed all of its secrets. And as long as they'll travel together, there will always be this tinge of doubt, this _what if?_ that reminds them they haven't yet discovered everything about her, this possibility that she is, indeed, more than a machine.

Granted, it's nothing much. But it's all it takes for her to remember that under these gears of orichalcum and these complicated Muian mechanisms, she is still a living being.

~~~~~

Over time, she's come to accept her new life, one adventure after the other on the way to the Cities of Gold. She's even come to enjoy it. But one day, something happens that thrusts her back into the reality of her previous life.

In the middle of a heated moment, of an escape from a burning fortress, she senses an unusual presence on board. It's not the first time she's taken in an unknown passenger; but this time, something strikes her. She's clearly heard a certain name being pronounced...no, surely it couldn't be right. She must have misheard with all that was happening. And this guest sure doesn't look like whom she thought...she's gotten confused for a moment, that's all. She makes nothing of it, flying as instructed and making sure everyone is alright. It's not her first danger moment, and it won't be the last.

However...when things calm down, and she lands again, she gets a better view of everything. She gets a clear side of her young pilot, and the man they saved from that fort, and the eager embrace they share a moment after. And in a thrust of realization that hits her like a bucket of cold water, she _recognizes_ this passenger.

It's _him_. Her lover. He's here! He's with them!

She doesn't know how it happened, or why; but for the first time in fourteen years, she's reunited with her lover at last. And the thought fills her with joy; then with fright. For he is so different from her memories, and she's so different too, and he doesn't even know she's here. And she wants to tell him, she wants to reach out, to make him know she's here with him; but she doesn't know how to do that. And for now, he's busy reuniting with his child, their child. She doesn't want to ruin this moment. The two of them are crying; and if she still had eyes, she would have cried as well.

That night, the little village they're staying in is celebrating the defeat of their enemies. Her body is landed in a clearing of the thick forest, but enough light passes through the branches so that she can sneak her way in, closer to the people. When the night carries on and everyone starts falling asleep, she carefully walks the streets like a ghost, searching for him.

It's very late when she finds him; and yet, he's still not sleeping. Very typical of him...but on that moment, it only brings back more fond memories. Slowly she approaches, her steps making no noise as she walks.

She watches him from a distance, his back turned to her. He's leaning over a table, flipping a book's pages slowly as if looking for something, examining glass vials carefully. She can't help leaning on the windowsill, head on her arms, wondering what could have happened to him. He looks tired, his hands are trembling, and this mask keeps puzzling her. She doesn't know what to make of it.

Suddenly, he pauses. The vial he's holding has caught a sliver of her moonlight in her reflection. Quickly she ducks down, away from sight, right before he turns his head. A second later, she hears precipitated footsteps, and the door to the small house opens.

She's fast. She's already made her way to the roof in one swift jump, out of sight and reach. He's looking around, as if he's seen something strange, and eventually concludes it was just his imagination. What else could it be, after all?

But then, he pauses. He looks around, then up to the sky. And she thinks she's dreaming, but slowly, like a whisper, his voice rises along with his gaze. And it's not Spanish like she's used to hear with the crew, it's...it's another language, that's she's only heard in some very specific situations.

And she knows these words. She knows what he's saying. She knows what he's _singing._

His melody is slow, quiet, like he knows it will not yield any results. Like no one will answer this call he's trying out. And she knows she shouldn't, she knows she can't afford to be seen...but it breaks her heart. She can use that excuse with her son she's never known, but not for the man she loved, the man she still loves today.

She drops down to the ground behind him, silent as a ray of light. And, dimming herself down, she replies to his song, just as quiet. He suddenly freezes, and his head turns ever so slightly, but he holds himself back and keeps staring ahead. And the song continues.

Slowly, like she's afraid to scare off an animal, she steps closer. Her hands are forward, but she's too afraid to reach out. Their voices are both sounding out, but they're not intertwining anymore, like they've lost this synch they had. They're just confused halves looking for one another, unable to find each other in the darkness and the silence of the night, even though they're right there, they're right there and they're almost touching, they're so close, _they just have to get a little closer..._

But they don't. Her hands never touch to him, and their voices stay lost, away from one another. He doesn't turn around, like he's afraid of what he'll see. She starts regretting her decision, and begins to step away. She hates this feeling, she just wants to hold him, to tell him everything will be alright, that she's here. That she loves him, that she never stopped loving him.

_...so it worked, didn't it?_

His voice comes to her ears like a surprise. He's not looking at her, and yet...he's definitely talking to her. Or at least, she assumes so.

“It worked.”, she slowly replies.

She can't see his face, with this darkness around them. But she knows he's crying. Some things just don't need to be seen or heard, to be known.

_It's a good thing. I'm...I'm glad it did._

She nods, knowing well he can't see her.

“So am I.”

Very carefully, she reaches out again. Just...just a hug. It wouldn't hurt, right?

“Because it means I can see you again.”

Slowly, he starts to turn around. Just a peek. Just one. It would not have bad consequences, would it?

But just as he's about to see her, a voice comes to trouble their peace. Reflexively, she lets her form go, her body dissolving away into bouncy particles of light that fall and disperse.

Their child has been woken up by the noise, and wanted to see if his father was alright. With reluctance, the two of them go back inside, as Killa's body slowly reforms back on the Condor, her opportunity wasted perhaps forever.

But it's alright. At least she knows he's alive and safe. And it wouldn't have been good for him to follow a delusion, anyway. As much as she cherishes immortality, the Atlantean version of the concept does not leave much room for marital relationships.

At least he hasn't remarried. She'll allow herself to take pride in that, if only to feel a little better. Plus, maybe it's best she keeps of him the image of the dashing, seductive young man she's married. Just in case.

~~~~~

The stakes are getting higher and higher with every passing day. Before she knows it, they're racing to get to the next City of Gold, and things only become more and more dangerous.

She's not sure how long she can keep up the facade of silent help, before these kids get in too deep of a danger for their own good. One of these days she will have to act, she will have to reveal herself to do something completely crazy to make sure no one gets hurt. But the more time passes, the more she fears they'll ask her why she didn't reveal herself any sooner. How difficult of a condition that is hers!

But she stays positive. She has faith in these children, and in what they're doing. She knows they'll succeed in their quest, and she will not accept any other outcome. The enemy may be strong and ruthless, but their crew is united and confident. And she'll carry them to victory, so that they can find the answer to this riddle once and for all. For her fate and theirs are closely intertwined, now.

She will protect them, no matter what. Such is her sworn promise.


End file.
